


Soft Skeletons

by soncnica



Series: kosti!verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abusive Parents, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Crying, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Gen, Gen Work, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, No Sex, Older Jared, Physical Abuse, Psychologist Jared, Suicide Attempt, Violence, Younger Jensen, mild panic attack, not really a summer camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:51:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4588518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soncnica/pseuds/soncnica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared hasn't been the psychologist at Camp Gamble long. He always wanted to work with kids - troubled kids - but now it looks like he might be in over his head. Jensen is 16, Jared is 26.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft Skeletons

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic comes from the song 'Soft Skeletons' by Anberlin. The story has nothing to do with the song, I just loved the title, saw it fitting. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the people in this story, all is made up, all is fiction.
> 
> PLEASE READ: After a comment I received on a story in this verse, I remembered that I forgot to put an EXTRA WARNING on this verse, so here it is:
> 
> I, and everyone in the story, are very much aware that what needs to be done in cases like these is call the proper authorities and report the parents.  
> But that being said, as you will notice I'm writing this from Jared's and Jensen's POV and no one else's in the story. And as you also may notice I'm writing this at snail pace, as in, I'm writing without any time skips or anything like that. So ... you see where I'm going with this!? I can't say what someone else in the story is doing or what will happen next from someone else's perspective. I think everyone reading this will just have to trust me.  
> Thank you! And please if you aren't okay with any of this, please stop reading as I don't want to hurt anyone. That is not the intent of this story.  
> Thank you!

                                                                   

 

On Monday, it rained. The whole day. The day-to-day-schedule stayed the same, only the shirts of the kids weren't drenched in sweat but rather soaked through completely.

  
On Tuesday, Nickolas Caruthers got a cold, ate too many cough-drops and puked on his shoes. And got constipated. He was coughing, sniffing and groaning on the toilet for hours, dumping his chores on other kids who had been smarter and maybe even able to read the patient-information-sheet.

  
On Wednesday, the world turned like it usually does, Michelle got a hickey and refused to tell anyone who had done it - got detention for her loyalty - and the mess-crew made spaghetti.

  
On Thursday, Jensen cracks. And it rains again. Pours actually. Awesome.

-:-

The room is cold and he sniffs, shuffles his feet on the wooden floor, his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans, eyes on the ground.

“Hey, Jensen. Sit.”

Jared is a nice guy; he really is, but seriously … Jensen can’t handle another ‘tell me how you feel, man’ question from this guy. He nearly slit his wrist after their first meeting and if Jared hadn’t found him, because of a forgotten sweater for crying out loud, he would have.

And after that, Jared just didn’t know how to back the fuck off.

Jensen hid the knife for next time under a loose wooden plank in his cabin. Kitchen staff was stupid anyways.

“I’ll stand.”

“Okay, as you want.”

Jensen dissolves into inner laughter at that.

_As I want? I want to fuckin’ slit my wrist and watch the blood flow onto the floor. That’s what I want. I wanna fuckin’ disappear._

“Yeah, fine.” He rolls his eyes.

Thunder. The room is getting darker, even when Jared turns on the only light in the cabin, the room is still dark. Dim.

Jared's sitting on his usual chair in the corner of the room just looking at him. Sympathy in his eyes, that pity, fuckin’ pity that everyone seemed to have for him shining in them.

_Oh Jensen, Jensen has no friends, that poor boy. He’s a bit mentally challenged, you see… and his parents are amazing, real nice people, taking care of him like that… they could just send him into an institution, you know, but they are too nice to do that… but Jensen, dear Lord in Heaven, the Devil must be in that boy. He shows no respect for his parents, the people who raised him. He walks hunched down, speaks foul language, such foul language, I don’t know why his parents don’t do something about that. That poor boy, he’s on medication, you know? Yeah, medicated. Otherwise he just… looses it, starts screaming and he even punched my boy really bad. Broke his nose and all. But his parents just take care of him nonetheless. That poor child._

Jensen wants to punch Jared. Get him bloody and make him feel pain; pain that he feels every goddamn minute of every goddamn day. But he isn't violent. He isn’t. It just happens sometimes.

He hates everything about this guy; his sympathetic voice, his bright smile, his floppy hair, his gentle eyes… but most of all… he hates him trying to get him to talk.

Talk, talk, talk. Like that’s gonna help him. Nothing can help him.

“You wanna talk today? About what happened with Kevin?”

Jensen flinches. Jared’s voice is … meant to be calming but it's too soft for his comfort. His eyes flicker in the dim light, his floppy hair frames his face. He really hates everything about this man.

_No, I don’t wanna talk, you stupid shit … Kevin deserved that._

“No, not really.”

Stick to simple answers, maybe the guy will back off.

Jared leans forward, puts his elbows on his thighs.

“He said you hit him. Broke his nose, actually.”

_Stupid fuck deserved that. He couldn’t keep his eyes to himself. He saw. No one’s supposed to see. No one._

“Whatever.”

“Okay.”

Jared's silent for a minute, making Jensen twitchy.

“He told me he saw something … on your back.”

Jared’s eyes lower and his voice becomes a whisper … makes Jensen want to run, run so fast he’ll never be able to stop.

“No.”

“Jensen…”

Jensen fidgets.

_This’s not happening, not happening, not happening. Don’t wanna … no, no, no._

“Are you taking your pills?”

_No, ‘coz I’m not sick._

“Yes.”

Jared sighs and scrambles something on a list of paper he holds in his lap.

“Jensen, look … you’ve been here for a week, yeah?”

Jensen nods.

“Okay, look … after the …” Jared stops, clearly searching for what to say, how to describe what happened a few days ago, “…incident…”

_Incident? What the fuck? You caught me with a knife at my wrist, trying to kill myself. Trying to fuckin’ go away. It was my first chance to get away. You … incident? Shut the fuck up._

“… I really want you to talk to me. About just anything, okay? No matter what. Maybe even how bad the food in the cafeteria is. Those spaghetti were kinda … over cooked,” he grimaces, “I don’t care, just … talk.”

Jensen smiles. He doesn't want to … he wants for the floor to open up and swallow him and take him to Hell, where he deserves to be, or so his parents always say. He doesn't wanna share … doesn't wanna talk. And those spaghetti had been over cooked, salty and the sauce tasted like it'd been made out of roadkill.

Thunder.

“Jensen,” Jared sighs, “if you’d just … talk to me, alright? I know I can’t make you, man, I wish I could, ya know? Make you talk,” his eyes are shining in the dim light, “make you just” he squints, “… loose it, ya know? But I can’t … it has to be you. Just … I just wanna help you. I can help you if you’d let me.”

_What the… ? Fat chance, fucker. You don’t care about me, you’re just doing your job, you don’t give a shit about me, you don’t care … you don’t know me. You know shit about me, me talking to you … it ain’t gonna fuckin’ change a damn thing. You don’t wanna … you don’t care. No one cares about me. No one. No one knows._

It is suffocating; the room is closing in on him, trying to squish him between the four walls. It's choking him. Everything's choking him. Every drop of rain on the roof makes him flinch and makes it harder to breathe.

“Jensen…”

He can't … he … Jared is wrong. No one can help him. Because no one cares, because no one knows, no one believes him. Not his teachers, his family, no one. Never had. Never will.

“Jensen, hey.”

When did Jared’s hands make their way to his shoulder? When did those eyes come so close to his? When did that happen?

“Jensen, calm down.”

_No, no, no, no, no, no … no. Get away from me._

His hands shoot up and push at Jared’s chest, knocking the guy off his feet and making him stumble backwards.

“Stay away from me! Don’t you touch me!”

_Just don't touch me, don't ... don't ... please._

“Jensen…”

Jared doesn't get the message, just steps closer and closer and before Jensen knows what is happening his fist connects with Jared’s jaw.

Jared goes down. Jensen knew he would, he could throw a punch. He had to learn how to do it … otherwise…

There's some blood coming from Jared’s mouth.

“Jensen …”

_No, no, no, no … this isn’t happening._

His eyes go wide at the sight. He … made Jared bleed. He hadn't … mean it, but Jared just hadn't known when to back off and he … why did he have to prod and push and ask stupid questions and be nice and all that and just … fuck!

He spins around and opens the door, running out of the cabin, out to the rainy dusk. The cold air takes his breath away and the slippery steps nearly take away his balance.

He runs.

\--

“Hey, my name’s Jared and I’ll be the guy you’ll all come to talk to once a day or maybe even more if you all ain’t gonna behave yourself. About anything, but mostly about why you’re here.”

Jensen'd rolled his eyes at that. He wasn’t gonna go talk to this guy about nothing. Ever. Jesus.

\--

The rain becomes a drizzle, small, soft drops hitting his face.

He can't breathe. The trees are closing in on him. The narrow path he's running on is soft and slippery. He needs to hide, hide, hide … somewhere where no one will find him, never find him.

\--

“Jensen, right?”

Silence.

“Okay, want to sit down?”

Silence.

“Jensen, ‘m not here to … ‘m not here to hurt you. I‘m here to help you.”

Snort.

“Okay, well then … uh … I’ll talk and you listen.”

\--

The night's closing in. He doesn't care where he's running, doesn't care where he’ll end up, doesn't care about anything. He just wants to go away. Go away from everyone and just … be alone.

\--

“So, your parents brought you here, because you got into some trouble back home, right?

Silence. Blink.

“Alright, can you tell me about that a little?”

Nothing.

\--

It aches. His life aches. It aches so bad, his stomach twists and turns.

He keeps on running; through the drizzle, along the path, among the tall trees.

\---

He'd gotten the plastic knife from the kitchen’s main cook, Ms. Lash … nice lady, her cooking sucked, but she was nice.

Sat down by his bed, his back to the wall, rolled up his sleeve, pressed the edge to his wrist and that was when Jared walked in. He’d never forget those eyes widen in fear and Jared’s warm hands all over him.

\--

The night comes down fast, the sky dark, the stars nowhere to be seen. And he keeps on pushing, and pushing and pushing, his lungs hurting but his soul hurting more.

\--

“Why did you wanna do that?”

Silence. The floor looked nice; worn.

“Don’t … Jensen, look at me, come on. Eyes on me.”

Those eyes were burning him.

“Jensen, come on ...”

Jared’s warm fingers were closing around his wrist. The wrist he wanted to see bleeding.

He wouldn’t cry. Never could cry again.

“Okay, this is what we’re gonna do…”

He stopped listening after that.

“… gonna give me some feedback here, dude.”

Jared smiled.

“Okay.”

Jared grinned: “Awesome.”

\--

It hurts so bad, so fuckin’ bad. What'd been done to him, what was happening … it hurts so bad inside of him, the pain rotting in him, making him numb … numb at sixteen.

\--

“How are ya today?”

“Fine.

\--

Jared is nice … he is … he is the only one … the only one that is nice to him … and he tries. Tries so hard to be his friend. Tries so hard to make him open up, tries so hard … and he wants to tell him everything, wants to bare his soul to him, tell it all … if Jared will just give him more time and stop pushing. Stop being so fuckin’ persistent. Goddamn it.

\--

“What do you wanna talk about today?

“I know who gave Michelle that hickey.”

“You?”

“No, not me.”

Conversation was flowing after that. Because it wasn’t … it wasn’t about him.

\--

He needs to breathe. He doesn't want to stop. To stop will mean that someone's gonna find him, gonna catch him … panic is starting to grip at his chest. He doesn't wanna talk, doesn't wanna see anyone anymore, wants to be alone. Wants to lose himself in this forest and just … stop existing. Stop being. Then no one will be able to hurt him. Never again.

\--

“Jensen, man … what’s that on your back?”

“Fuck off.”

Kevin bled really grossly.

\--

Something crashes into him from behind, nearly pushing his spine through his chest. Something hard as stone but soft as feather. Warm and moving quickly against his back.

Long arms wrapping themselves around his waist, squeezing the air out of him. The force of the hit makes him stumble, loose momentum, and he goes down, catching himself with the heels of his hands, skinning them on the twig covered ground. Whoever crashed into him goes down with him, rolling them quickly onto their sides.

“Jensen…”

Out of breath.

Jared. Jared has his arms around his waist, his legs pinning his to the floor, his chest moving against his back.

“Calm down…”

Not the words he wants to hear. He doesn't wanna calm down, he wants to fucking get away from Jared, run away, go someplace where there is no one to look into his eyes or to talk to him. Just be alone. Just disappear.

He kicks. Jared pins his legs down with more force.

He tries to move his arms but Jared just squeezes them tighter to his side, right against his ribs, making it really hard to breathe.

He can't breathe. He can't … Jared is all around him …the opposite of what he wants right now.

_Escape, escape, escape._

Run, run, run … go away from Jared before he crackes.

He's suffocating again. Everything's crashing onto him all at once. The bush in his line of sight is coming closer and closer, the sky is falling down on him and the only thing that keeps him from just flying away are Jared’s strong hands around him.

He can't breathe. Can't…

“Jensen, shhh, shhh, shhh… come on… breathe. Come on… come on… come on. Calm down.”

Jared’s voice so close to his ear, his warm breath on his cold cheeks, his hands going up and down over his chest … make him crash.

_No crying. No crying. No crying. Please… no… no tears. Please…_

The tears just come.

One sob.  
Drawing up his legs as much as Jared allows them to, Jensen starts to shake. His left side hurts, pressed to the ground with almost all of Jared’s weight on his right side.

Sob.  
_No crying. Please. Don’t wanna cry… fuck!_

Sob.

“That’s it… ‘s it Jensen. Come on.”

Sob.  
His mom yelling at him about being a worthless little shit, about how she didn’t know why she even gave birth to him, about how he didn’t deserve to be alive. About how he’s only trouble and expenses and a waste of air. About how he had the Devil in him.

Sob.  
His father yelling at him about how he wished he’d just die already. Just die, die, die. That day when his father left him bloody on the bed, shivering in his own sweat and piss. That day when he tried to run away and they found him. They found him… he didn’t leave the house for two weeks after that. Couldn’t.

Sob.  
The darkness of the closet he was being locked into for days at a time simply because he was breathing the same air as his parents did.

Crying.  
The fact that his parents gave a shit about him and his brother was the reason why he ended up at this camp. He loved his brother, but his brother didn’t know. He didn’t know…

Sob.  
He didn’t wanna go back home.

“Please…”

“Please what Jensen?”

Crying.  
_Don’t make me go home, there’s no home for me. Not there. Not with them. I have no one. Nowhere to run, they just find me every time._

Crying.  
Snot and tears run down his face into his open mouth… he can't breathe anymore… hitching breaths and weird noises come from deep within his chest.

Jared tightens his arms around him, making him shiver; Jared’s warm body against his back, and the cool wind against his chest.

“Please, what? Huh?”

_Nothing, nothing, nothing… please… no, no, no, no… nothing._

He wants to roll over, hide his face in the ground and suffocate. But Jared is strong, keeping him steady, only allowing him to push his knees to his chest and wrap his hand around Jared’s forearm.

He takes a deep breath, his chest stinging and mumbles quickly: “Dontmakemegohome… please.”

Jared is silent and Jensen cries harder.

The ground is wet and hard.  
Jensen’s face is wet from tears and snot.  
Jared’s arms hurt.

The drizzle stops.

It's a cold night.

“Talk to me… say whatever you want.”

Jensen shakes his head.

_No._

“Come on… whatever comes to your mind.”

Jensen looks into the distance, not really seeing anything, just concentrating his eyes on the dark… the dark holds no images.

“The closet smells of sweaty shoes.”

“What closet?”

“And it’s like you’re blind, it’s that dark in there. And spiders crawl over ya.”

His voice is shot to shit and he can't pull in a full breath, saliva running down his cheek.

“What closet, Jensen?”

“They wa- ant me to die. They tell… tell me that e-every day. Why did they fuck then, if they didn’t wa-ant me?”

Jared is silent.

“It’s not my… my fault… ‘s not.” he whispers.

Jared swallows: “No, ‘s not.”

“No one cares. Hav-ve no friends. They don’t.. don’t want me to ha-ave ‘em. Said I’m retarded. I’m not,” he sniffs, “‘m not. Said they’ll hurt me if I say so-something at this camp. Said not to talk to anyone or else…”

“Hey, hey…”

“I wish they’d kill me… som-sometimes… just… do it… already.”

“Jensen…”

Crying. Staring into the darkness doesn't help. Even darkness holds images for him.

Jared's a silent presence behind him. Not pushing, not prodding. Just breathing and keeping his back safe.

He wipes his face, his hand coming away soaking wet. He grabs Jared’s forearm again.

He's shaking… his whole body shakes with hot tears, cooling down his neck. Shakes like a leaf on a rainy day. Shakes in Jared’s arms.

There's no moon on the sky tonight.  
No stars.  
Just blackness.

“He hits me.”

He whispers, not finding his voice.

“Who?” Whisper.

“Dad.” Whisper.

“Where?” Whisper.

“Back.” Whisper.

Jared nods against Jensen’s wet nape, Jensen’s hair ticking his forehead.

“Can I look? I aint’ gonna touch, just gonna look, okay?”

_Look? Why? Why do you even wanna? Just… ‘s too personal, ‘s gonna make it real. ‘s gonna be real if someone else sees it. What will him seeing that help? What? Why… no, no, no… can’t._

“Yeah…” Whisper.

Jared untangles his legs from Jensen’s, lets go of Jensen’s upper body and rolls to sit. Jensen doesn't move, still lying on his left side, staring into the darkness.

He fishes for his flashlight that'd been lying near Jensen’s sneaker, forgotten, illuminating the woods behind their backs.

“s okay, just me, alright?” Whisper.

He grabs the hem of Jensen’s wet and muddy shirt and lifts it, his hands trembling when he bunches it up at Jensen’s nape.

He swallows.

Jensen’s back is criss-crossed with lines… lines only a belt could do. A belt on naked skin. They aren't fresh looking, are just there… all over.

Jensen’s back shakes. Vertebrae seen so clearly in the yellow light.

“Jensen… when did he last do this?” Whisper.

“Two weeks ago, maybe more. He… my dad… loves the belt. The thin one.”

“Okay, ‘s okay.” Whisper.

No, it’s not. But here… at this moment with Jared’s strong hands around him again, protecting his back… maybe it is okay. Just for this moment. Just one moment in life, maybe things are okay. It feels good. Feels safe.

**The End** **(but more to come)**

**Author's Note:**

> There's a Jared POV of this story too, please go here if you are interested: http://marlowe78.livejournal.com/5511.html  
> And Marlowe78 also wrote the 1st paragraph of this story.  
> This is a verse, so more stories are coming, if you are interested. Thank you for reading.


End file.
